Act I, Scene 2

London. An apartment of the Prince’s.

[Enter the PRINCE OF WALES and FALSTAFF]

• Falstaff. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

• Henry V. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack
  and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon
  benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to 115
  demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know.
  What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the
  day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes
  capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and dials the
  signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself 120
  a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no
  reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand
  the time of the day.

• Falstaff. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take
  purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not 125
  by Phoebus, he,'that wandering knight so fair.' And,
  I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God
  save thy grace,—majesty I should say, for grace
  thou wilt have none,—

• Henry V. What, none? 130

• Falstaff. No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to
  prologue to an egg and butter.

• Henry V. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.

• Falstaff. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not
  us that are squires of the night's body be called 135
  thieves of the day's beauty: let us be Diana's
  foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the
  moon; and let men say we be men of good government,
  being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and
  chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. 140

• Henry V. Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the
  fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and
  flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is,
  by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold
  most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most 145
  dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with
  swearing 'Lay by' and spent with crying 'Bring in;'
  now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder
  and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

• Falstaff. By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. And is not my 150
  hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

• Henry V. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And
  is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

• Falstaff. How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and
  thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a 155
  buff jerkin?

• Henry V. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

• Falstaff. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a
  time and oft.

• Henry V. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? 160

• Falstaff. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

• Henry V. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch;
  and where it would not, I have used my credit.

• Falstaff. Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent
  that thou art heir apparent—But, I prithee, sweet 165
  wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when
  thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is
  with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do
  not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

• Henry V. No; thou shalt. 170

• Falstaff. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

• Henry V. Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have
  the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman.

• Falstaff. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my
  humour as well as waiting in the court, I can tell 175
  you.

• Henry V. For obtaining of suits?

• Falstaff. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman
  hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy
  as a gib cat or a lugged bear. 180

• Henry V. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.

• Falstaff. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

• Henry V. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of
  Moor-ditch?

• Falstaff. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes and art indeed 185
  the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young
  prince. But, Hal, I prithee, trouble me no more
  with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a
  commodity of good names were to be bought. An old
  lord of the council rated me the other day in the 190
  street about you, sir, but I marked him not; and yet
  he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not; and
  yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

• Henry V. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the
  streets, and no man regards it. 195

• Falstaff. O, thou hast damnable iteration and art indeed able
  to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon
  me, Hal; God forgive thee for it! Before I knew
  thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man
  should speak truly, little better than one of the 200
  wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give
  it over: by the Lord, and I do not, I am a villain:
  I'll be damned for never a king's son in
  Christendom.

• Henry V. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? 205

• Falstaff. 'Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one; an I
  do not, call me villain and baffle me.

• Henry V. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying
  to purse-taking.

• Falstaff. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a 210
  man to labour in his vocation.
  [Enter POINS]
  Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a
  match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
  hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the 215
  most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand' to
  a true man.

• Henry V. Good morrow, Ned.

• Edward Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse?
  what says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack! how 220
  agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou
  soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira
  and a cold capon's leg?

• Henry V. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have
  his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of 225
  proverbs: he will give the devil his due.

• Edward Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.

• Henry V. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

• Edward Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four
  o'clock, early at Gadshill! there are pilgrims going 230
  to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders
  riding to London with fat purses: I have vizards
  for you all; you have horses for yourselves:
  Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke
  supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it 235
  as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff
  your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry
  at home and be hanged.

• Falstaff. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not,
  I'll hang you for going. 240

• Edward Poins. You will, chops?

• Falstaff. Hal, wilt thou make one?

• Henry V. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith.

• Falstaff. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good
  fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood 245
  royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.

• Henry V. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.

• Falstaff. Why, that's well said.

• Henry V. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

• Falstaff. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. 250

• Henry V. I care not.

• Edward Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince and me alone:
  I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure
  that he shall go.

• Falstaff. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him 255
  the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may
  move and what he hears may be believed, that the
  true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false
  thief; for the poor abuses of the time want
  countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. 260

• Henry V. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer!

[Exit Falstaff]

• Edward Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us
  to-morrow: I have a jest to execute that I cannot
  manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill 265
  shall rob those men that we have already waylaid:
  yourself and I will not be there; and when they
  have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut
  this head off from my shoulders.

• Henry V. How shall we part with them in setting forth? 270

• Edward Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and
  appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at
  our pleasure to fail, and then will they adventure
  upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have
  no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. 275

• Henry V. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
  horses, by our habits and by every other
  appointment, to be ourselves.

• Edward Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see: I'll tie them
  in the wood; our vizards we will change after we 280
  leave them: and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram
  for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

• Henry V. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.

• Edward Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as
  true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the 285
  third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll
  forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the
  incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will
  tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at
  least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what 290
  extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this
  lies the jest.

• Henry V. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things
  necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap;
  there I'll sup. Farewell. 295

• Edward Poins. Farewell, my lord.

[Exit Poins]

• Henry V. I know you all, and will awhile uphold
  The unyoked humour of your idleness:
  Yet herein will I imitate the sun, 300
  Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
  To smother up his beauty from the world,
  That, when he please again to be himself,
  Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
  By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 305
  Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
  If all the year were playing holidays,
  To sport would be as tedious as to work;
  But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come,
  And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 310
  So, when this loose behavior I throw off
  And pay the debt I never promised,
  By how much better than my word I am,
  By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
  And like bright metal on a sullen ground, 315
  My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
  Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
  Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
  I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
  Redeeming time when men think least I will. 320

[Exit]